Red Wolfe (16 page)

“Gregor,” she whispered as he walked by the table.

“
Oui
?”

“That is the cook, correct?”

“
Oui
, my lady.”

“Has he been here cooking this whole time?”

“He has been away also—on a trip,” he quickly added before scampering off.

It was big mansion. Was it possible that the cook had been here this whole time and she never noticed? She was beginning to find it very suspicious that all these people had been “gone on a trip” and were just now returning.

Something brushed against her leg and she looked down to see two black, watery, begging eyes and Ellena threw the whining pooch a piece of her biscuit.

“Roma, Rimi!” John called, tossing them two thic
k, mutton bones. They settled at his feet where they thoroughly relished in their new gained prize. Their meals together certainly had changed, she reminisced.

“See? You were hungry,” John said as Ellena piled second helpings onto her plate. She would have replied but her mouth was full of delicious apple pie. “I can also see that your story is coming along quite nicely.” The papers suddenly appeared in his hand.

“Have you been reading them?” she asked. “It’s not finished!”

“I have not read it,” he defensively said. “But I couldn’t help but notice my name. Are you using it?”

“John is a very common name,” she mumbled. “I just thought it fit the main character, that’s all.”

“You named the main character after me?” he shyly grinned.

“John just fit, okay?” She snatched a roll from her plate and marched to the other end of the table. “I’ve eaten now and I want to get back to work.”

He placed the papers into Ellena’s out stretched hand and she turned to leave.

“Just a suggestion,” John began. “You may want to name the other prince, Ives.”

“Ives? What an interesting name,” she said. “May I ask why?”

“It just seems to fit, wouldn’t you say?”

      Chapter Thirteen

Seven days passed, an entire week of the same routine.  Ellena would spend all sunlight hours fiercely writing away in John’s study, only stopping to eat and sleep before returning to her bedroom late at night to rest. A few times she even went for a walk around the grounds to clear her mind, but John of course feeling uneasy about her roaming outside alone, demanded that either he or the dogs were to always accompany her on her afternoon walks.

That is where she found herself at this moment, talking a leisurely stroll around the gardens with Roma and Rimi. The snow had nearly vanished and Ellena could already see the little sprouts and seedlings breaking through the newly nourished earth.

Her book would be finished soon, probably before the Spring and a sudden sadness washed over her. The book would be completed and she would have to leave France, have to leave this place.

“It would
be uncouth to stay after my work is completed,” she muttered to herself. “I couldn’t just stay.”

A
part of her wanted to and she tried to talk herself out of feeling such a way. After all, this place had no electricity, no modern technology, and was isolated in the middle of nowhere, she fussed. There was no way she could be happy here—or could she? What did she have waiting for her when she returned home besides an empty house?  Maybe she could stay in the village? She had grown very fond of the small town since her arrival and it would be nice to be so close to John.

Her feet stopped at that thought. Was he the real reason she wanted to stay?

Ellena forced herself to trudge forward, the red hood flowing behind her as she approached the majestic fountain she had seen days before on her way to the stables. It looked even gloomier up close with its brown, crumpled leaves floating in the green water that had accumulated from the melting snow and the faded, discolored marble had turned a dull gray color from the years of weather damage, but it was still one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. This was a monument to the test of time. This stone lady had weathered many storms, storms that had left their mark, but here she still stood, strong and regal. This was a woman who would not easily crumble.

Roma and Rimi came to stand beside her as if they too w
ere admiring the stone beauty, that is until they began playfully scuffling and nearly knocking Ellena from her feet.  She took that as her cue to head for the house.

The door flung open and Ellena tramped inside shaking the mud from her boots when she found John standing at the window with a pipe in his hand.

“Did you enjoy your walk?”

She couldn’t help but notice how the crimson shirt he wore brought out the amber in his eyes.

“I did. They were good company,” Ellena stooped to pet her companions before they wandered down the hall. The smoke from the pipe billowed around John’s face and into his clothes, giving him an almost ethereal appearance.

“You looked deep in thought,” he softly said.

“You were watching me?”

He shifted from one leg to another, avoiding her gaze. “Just to make sure
that you were safe.”

Was this really the same man who only a few days ago had moved in to kiss her? He was acting so shy now and only because he had been watching her from the window!

“I’ll never understand you
Monsieur
John Wolfe,” she halfheartedly teased.

“What do you mean?” he replied with an utterly offended tone that only made the young woman laugh harder. “I demand that you stop!” But she was already marching down the hall with him hot on her trail yelling orders and commands that Ellena would never obey.

Their lively antics were becoming a common scene in the household now. If one wasn’t chasing after the other, one was sending the other into a fit. It was all in fun and the servants had learned to just ignore them and continue about their duties.

Now that her afternoon stroll, as long as her afternoon tiff with John, w
as over Ellena picked up her pad and headed for the music room just down the hall. Not that she didn’t love writing in John’s private library, but Ellena needed a small change to keep her creative juices flowing and the airy piano room was just what she needed.

One picture in particular caught her attention. It was hanging above the golden laced fireplace in the most exquisite
stilted frame. Two noble women stood, one in a silver dress, the other in a deep violet. They were older women, but not too old and the one in violet had a dainty golden crown placed atop her curly locks. They were both attractive women with long, dark hair and bright smiles and as Ellena stared harder at the picture she realized something. The women in violet must have been John’s mother. She could see the resemblance—the same smile, same chestnut eyes. The man certainly did take after his mother, she thought.  Her next thought drifted to the woman in silver standing next to
Madame
Wolfe. Who was she? A loyal friend?  A servant?  No, she wasn’t a servant, Ellena concluded. She was dressed much too finely to be a lady in waiting. Was his mother even dead? He had never said otherwise.

The candle flickered almost in sync with the soft chimes of the great clock in the next room. The cords softly sounded reminding Ellena that it was late, very late, but no matter how hard she commanded her
brain to cease and go to sleep it just wouldn’t obey.

Her feet swung over her bed and hit the plush rug below. She stood, the hem of her night gown falling and skimming against her toes. What she needed was some wine. That would surely help her fall asleep.  Quietly creaking the door open, she ventured into the dark hallway.
Most of the candles had been blown out for the evening, leaving everything cast in a dark stillness, but there was enough moonlight cascading inside for her to see. The kitchen was her destination, but since she had never been there she set her sights on the dining room. The scullery couldn’t be far from there.

It was eerily
quiet. The servants had long ago retired to bed and the cheery voices and the clashing of plates and platters that filled the house during the day had died away. Now that she thought about it, she had never once ventured out into the mansion this late.

A shadow darted across a small window and Ellena froze. Soft tapping
began and she ventured closer when a sound she knew reached her ears. Her steps quickened as she walked to the window, unlocking the latch.

The cat’s bright yellow eyes pierced her as it slithered inside, making sure to rub its silky, black fur against her arm. Even more surprising w
as the violet cloth around its neck that served as some kind of collar. 

“Ami?” Ellena read the white letters stitched into the cloth out loud and the cat’s ears jerked. The small creature meowed loudly, and quite impatiently, and Ellena scooped the cat up in her arms. She was off to the kitchens anyway.
Maybe she could find some milk for the poor thing?

They soon arrived to the dining hall. It looked nothing like it did during the day. The long, rectangular table that was normally covered in brightly painted dishes and
plates sat completely barren, as did the fireplace in the corner that was normally ablaze with a sizzling fire. Ami leapt from Ellena’s arms, landing gracefully onto the table as her tail impatiently switched.

“It was somewhere over here,” Ellena mumbled to herself as she walked
to the far end of the room. She had remembered the cook coming and going several times from this direction during their meals. Her fingers groped the wall when suddenly it moved or, more precisely, she had discovered a partly hidden swinging door.

It certainly led to the kitchen. There was no mistaking it and it was unlike any kitchen that Ellena had ever seen. The strong scent of spices—pepper, thyme, rosemary, filled the air. All swirling and mixing together to create a zigging scent that sent her nose tingling.
Legs of pork hung from a rack just to her left and to her right was an antique stovetop that still ran off of wood. An icebox was in the corner and she opened it up to find a little brown jug of milk.

“For you,” she whispered, pouring the sweet drink into a bowl on the floor and Ami quickly set to work lapping up the delicious treat.

Clanks and clinks filled the room as Ellena stumbled around, trying to find her way through the shadowy scullery. Finally, her fingers found it. Settled in between a jar of jam and a bowl of blueberries was a freshly opened bottle of red wine. Finding a cup from the cupboard she poured herself a glass, and a rather large one at that, before heading back to bed.

Ellena sipped on her wine as she slowly walked. Ami quickly took the lead as
her yellow eyes kept looking back to make sure Ellena was following before dashing off a few feet and then stopping to gaze back again. It was as if the cat was beckoning her to follow.

They ended up in a corridor, the same corridor that Ellena wandered into the first day she had come to the mansion. The picture frames still hung along the wall only now most
of the strange pictures that had occupied them were gone. It was just another mystery to add to the list of unusual happenings that seem to occur in this house. When Ellena looked down she saw that Ami had planted herself underneath a particular picture, a portrait of an old woman in a pearl white bonnet and the black cat began to frantically meow, its little paws scratching at the wall. That’s when Ellena felt it too. Some sort of electricity was pulsating through the air and tightening around her neck. Then, right before her eyes, the painting started to shake, jolting and jerking as it beat against the wall.

She
didn’t feel the cup drop from her hand, or hear it shatter to pieces at her feet. The world seemed to stop as the portrait began to glow and just like something in a dream a hand emerged from the frame, and then an arm. In a bright flash the woman was there, standing before Ellena, dusting her white apron off as if popping out of a painting in a magical beam of light was completely normal. Ellena, on the other hand, was far from unfazed.

She screamed.

“Wait!” the old woman pleaded.

“Stay away!”

Ellena ran. It was all making sense now, the sudden appearance of all the servants and the missing pictures, but at the same time, it didn’t make sense at all. What she had witnessed wasn’t even possible!

Picture after picture blurred past her
as she ran. She didn’t want to stop and look, scared of what she might see. Gregor was waiting by her door was she raced inside.

“Wait, Lady Ellena,” he hastily said, but she was already slipping on her shoes.